


Taken Hostage

by Soft Cowboah (CourtingDisaster)



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Bank Robbery, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, hostage, long journey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-31 07:09:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18586297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourtingDisaster/pseuds/Soft%20Cowboah
Summary: A bank robbery in Rhodes doesn't go as expected, and a young woman finds herself taken hostage by Micah Bell. In order to salvage a bad situation, Arthur decides to take the lady as far from Lemoyne as he can get her while the rest of the gang moves camp, but on the journey things start to change...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm officially obsessed with RDR2 and the softest cowboah to ever cowboah. I typically don't write self-insert or reader fiction, but I feel like video games are a good medium for this sort of fic, and this one wouldn't leave me alone.
> 
> I decided write in first-person, mostly because I find (Y/N)(L/N) can sometimes take me out of a story when I'm writing OR reading.
> 
> WARNING: early in the story, Micah forces the reader to fondle him. That is the only non-consensual sexual contact in the story. Please take care of yourselves, readers; your mental health is important to me.

It had been a long few months in Rhodes, a town that I had learned to despise while waiting for my sister to give birth. I liked my brother-in-law alright; he was the sort of Southern beau many a girl might fall for, with an easy charm and a beguiling accent. But Rhodes was decaying around its residents, many of whom pretended that the war had never ended, and I had tired of its denizens rather quickly. I was looking forward to returning to my small holding in Big Valley.

_No more red dust blowing up every time there’s the smallest breeze,_ I thought with relief. _No more sweltering, smothering humidity as soon as the sun goes up._ I smiled at just the thought of the cool mountain breezes waiting for me at the foot of the Grizzlies. In a few more weeks I would be back there, but for now my sister and her baby still needed my help.

Help which included running to the general store and the bank. I’d volunteered for the errands because I was eager to get out of the house, but Rhodes wasn’t much of a distraction. And neither was standing in its tiny bank. I let my thoughts drift off, and they turned to the novel I’d been reading in the afternoons when there was a slight lull in activity. It was a silly thing, a romance story, but there hadn’t been an abundance of romance in my life so far, and the story filled me with a sweet ache. Love stories were my secret indulgence; in most other aspects of my life, I needed to be practical and realistic, but novels let me dream just a little bit.

One such dream had swept me away, and I lost myself in trying to picture my perfect romantic hero when the doors behind me crashed open and three fully armed men stormed into the bank. One of the guns went off, deafening everyone in the small building as they moved swiftly toward the teller.

“ _Shit.”_ My mother would have washed my mouth out with soap if she’d been alive to hear me say such a word out loud, but the situation seemed to merit it. I dropped to the floor like everyone else in the room as the bank robbers, masked and with hats pulled low over their brows, shouted demands.

“I got the safe,” said one man. He was the biggest of the three, and his voice was tightly controlled and calm. He kicked open the door that led behind the teller’s desk and to the vault itself. I could hear the teller’s panicked assurances that he’d cooperate as I looked up at the other two men. One was a young black man, and he seemed jumpy but so far hadn’t been too rough. The other smelled like sweat and liquor and was clearly enjoying this opportunity to scare the hell out of those of us being robbed. He whipped one man with the stock of his pistol for looking at him, and when his eyes found me they lit with a savage delight.

“I got an idea, boys!” he shouted to his companions. “You almost done back there, cowpoke?”

“I hope you’re not planning anything too stupid,” snapped the big man who’d gone into the vault. “I need another minute.”

“Don’t worry cowpoke, this isn’t stupid at all,” the smelly one replied, his eyes locked on mine. “This is _insurance.”_

I didn’t like the sound of that.

The big man emerged from the vault, slinging a saddlebag over his shoulder. “Let’s go,” he said, and the younger man immediately headed toward the door. The smelly man did not. Instead he strode over, grabbed my arm, and yanked me to my feet.

“Let me go!” I started, but the cold barrel of the man’s pistol at my temple stopped me from protesting further. For the first time, true panic took over. At any moment, this man could pull the trigger and that would be the end of it, and he seemed manic enough to do so.

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” The first man grabbed my captor’s shoulder and shook him hard. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I told you—I’m getting us some insurance. We take her with us, the law can’t shoot at us. They wouldn’t hurt a pretty young thing like her, not with the whole town watching.”

“Oh yeah? And what do we do with her when we get outta here?” the big man demanded, and his blue-green eyes were blazing with a kind of fury that chilled me to my core. I couldn’t see my captor’s face, but I could tell he was amused rather than afraid. He must be crazy, if he wasn’t intimidated by his companion’s obvious enmity.

“Oh, I got a few ideas about that, too.”

“I just bet you do, you—”

Whatever the big man was going to say was cut off as their younger companion began shouting.

“We gotta go, law’s coming in fast!” He waved at his fellows and we all began moving toward the door, though I tried to dig my heels in. My captor dragged me with ease and only laughed when I tried to take a chunk out of his arm with my teeth.

“Keep fighting, little hellcat,” he muttered into my ear. “I _like_ the struggle, makes the rest so much more fun.”

“Bastard!” I snapped, but he clipped off the end of my word with a brutal slap across the face that left me dizzy. As the world swam back into focus I realized he’d already pulled me onto his horse and gagged me with a disgusting bit of cloth he’d pulled out of his saddlebag. Instead of steering us across the tracks and through the surrounding grassland, he spurred his horse to charge straight down the main road—right toward the lawmen. He wanted them to see he had a hostage, though I very much doubted they’d keep their guns holstered on my account.

Yet when he demanded they back off or he’d blow my head off, the men complied. They kept their hands far from their holsters as we galloped past, and moments later we were fleeing from Rhodes.

_Jump,_ I told myself, but at the speed we were moving, I’d be lucky if I didn’t break my neck. And before I could gather my courage and jump anyway, the men were slowing their horses. The big man slid out of his saddle, marched up to my captor and I, and pulled the both of us down from our horse with one powerful yank. Then he wound up and punched my captor in the mouth.

“What the _hell_ are you thinking?” he snapped. “Hostages are sloppy and you know it!”

To my surprise, my captor spit blood and then laughed in the other man’s face. “Relax, cowpoke. I just got us out of there. Besides, those bitches back at camp are so frigid…I figured we could have a little _fun_ with this one.”

As he said this, he twisted my hand down and held it against his crotch. I immediately began fighting again, twisting to get away from him, wishing I could spit in his repulsive face. He only tightened his hold on me like a vice, until it hurt even to stand still.

“You’re pathetic,” the big man said, looking nearly as disgusted as I felt. “Let her go.”

“Oh no, I’ve grown real fond of her.”

There was the sound of a gun leaving a holster, but almost before my brain recognized the sound, that gun was pointed square between captor’s eyes.

“Lenny, please remove the lady. And Micah, I swear to Christ if you so much as blink, I’ll blow your damn head off.”

The younger man—Lenny—slid off of his horse and tugged me out of Micah’s grip. He looked spooked, unnerved by the power struggle happening right in front of us, but he did exactly as the big man said. He drew me back toward his horse. Though he kept me in an iron grip, he also shifted us so that he was slightly between Micah and I.

“I think it’s best if you go to camp,” the big man was saying to Micah. “And tell Dutch I’ll be wanting a word with him when I get back.”

Micah’s smile was sharp and cold. “I’ll be telling him _all_ about this, Morgan. Don’t you worry about that.”

“I’m sure you will,” Morgan replied, and there was a touch of dryness behind the fury in his tone. “Go on, before I change my mind and put you down after all.”

Micah laughed, though even I could see that he was slightly uncertain. Morgan’s gun never wavered as he climbed back onto his horse. With a brutal twist of the reins and a sharp application of spurs, Micah was galloping away. Lenny let out a visible sigh of relief.

“What now, Arthur? Do we just let her go?” he asked in a shaky voice.

_Arthur Morgan,_ I thought. The name was familiar, I’d read it in the newspaper only a few weeks ago, along with another: _the Van der Linde gang._ And they’d just taken me hostage.

“No, not yet,” Arthur replied, and then he rubbed the bridge of his nose and muttered, “ _Shit!”_

Lenny sighed and twisted me around. He tugged my hands behind my back. “Sorry about this, Miss,” he said, and tied them together.

Arthur stalked away for a moment, rigid with frustration, but then I heard his footsteps return.

“Lenny, you better go tell Hosea what happened. And try to tell Dutch the truth, too, if he’ll listen. I’ll be back soon and I’ll _make_ him listen,” he added darkly. “But maybe you can keep Micah somewhat honest. And the law will be looking for the girl, so get the camp moving. I’ll find you all in a few days.”

“Sure thing, Arthur,” Lenny replied, and with one last glance at me, he climbed on his horse and followed Micah. That left me tied up and alone with one of the most notorious outlaws in three states.

_I never should have left Big Valley,_ I thought. Now I might not ever see it again. I closed my eyes and tried to picture home, hoping it would calm my thundering heart, but all that did was add sadness to my fear. When I opened them again, it was to find Arthur Morgan staring at me, and I could see that he had no idea what to do next.

_He’s going to kill me,_ I realized. _He doesn’t have a choice._

Instead, he walked toward me slowly, like I was a spooked horse, and tugged the gag out of my mouth.

“Well,” he said. “We’re in a real bad situation, you and me.”

I swallowed hard, then nodded. One side of his lips twisted up in a bitterly sardonic smile, and he looked down at the ground and then squinted up at the sky.

“Tell the truth, I’m not quite sure what to do just yet. What’s your name, miss?”

I told him, fiercely glad that my voice was steady, if a little hoarse. He nodded to himself and fell silent again. Something about his demeanor was calming the worst of my fears. I knew my situation was still perilous, but he seemed genuinely reluctant to hurt me, and when that bastard Micah had put my hand on his—

I shuddered at the memory. Arthur had stepped in then. Surely he wasn’t going to just shoot me now and leave my body to rot next to a creek?

“Well, I guess there’s really only one choice,” he said, and my illusion of safety shattered with those words. _One choice_ sounded awfully final.

His eyes met mine, so blue and so intense, and I tried to stand tall and make my peace before he lifted his revolver and shot me dead. I was so certain I was about to die that nothing could have prepared me for the moment when he lifted me onto his saddle instead.

“I’m real sorry about this, Miss, but I’m going to have to get you as far away from Lemoyne as I can. I’ll cut you loose somewhere near civilization, once I can be sure I’ve got a good head start. By the time you find someone to tell about us, I’ll be long gone,” he warned me. “And a couple days after that the whole gang will have disappeared. But I ain’t gonna hurt you, you have my word on that.”

“The word of an outlaw,” I said dryly, trying to mask my unease with bravado. He smirked a little.

“Suppose it’ll just have to do,” he replied. “You can holler for help if you want to, but we won’t be taking any roads, and I’d rather not gag you if it’s all the same to you.”

“But you’ll leave me tied up,” I said. He shrugged.

“Best way to make sure you don’t run off on me.” Then he swung up onto the horse behind me and took the reins into large, capable hands. Hands that would have no trouble overpowering me if I tried to escape. I’d have to bide my time, wait until his guard was down, before making my move. And once I was free of him, I was going to get right on a train and I was never going to look back. I didn’t care what happened to Arthur and the Van der Linde gang as long as it had nothing to do with me.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You don’t seem like an outlaw,” I said after a few miles.
> 
> “You know many outlaws?” he asked, and I made a wry face.
> 
> “No,” I was forced to admit, “but I supposed I imagined them being a lot less decent than you.”
> 
> He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not decent,” he said in an oddly flat tone. “I’ve done lots of terrible things. And you’d better not forget that for a moment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One important thing I forgot to mention in the chapter 1 notes is that Arthur does NOT have TB in this story.
> 
> Thank you for your support!!!

The first day was the worst. Arthur had retied my hands so they were no longer behind my back, but my thighs ached from a long day in the saddle. He set a hard pace, racing westward away from Lemoyne. I remembered how much I’d looked forward to leaving with more than a little bitterness. _Careful what you wish for indeed,_ I thought as we crossed through the wild terrain. Still, Arthur never seemed phased by the rough country, and his horse was surefooted and clever.

He didn’t talk much that day, and I didn’t either. There seemed to be nothing _to_ say. I didn’t think he’d tell me where we were going, and I didn’t want to volunteer any information about myself he might use to track me down later. I also didn’t want to give him any excuse to shoot me. So the silence stretched as we rode on, only stopping to make camp once the sky had filled with stars.

“I’ll have to hunt tomorrow,” he said to me once the fire was blazing, ““which means you’re getting tied to a tree.”

“I don’t suppose you’d appreciate my input on the matter.”

He chuckled. “Seeing as there’s nothing you can say that will change my mind about that, I doubt it. But you’re welcome to try if it’ll make you feel better, Miss.”

“An outlaw and a gentleman,” I muttered sarcastically. He shot me an amused glance.

“You’re half right, anyway,” he said and set about cooking us a rough sort of dinner. The venison he handed me was plain and I had to rip it with my teeth, but I was so hungry it might as well have been prime rib. I finished it embarrassingly quickly and then licked my fingers clean. When I glanced up, Arthur was staring at me with slightly widened eyes, but I didn’t care: he’d kidnapped me, he didn’t get to object to my poor manners.

Then he shocked me once again by offering me his bedroll.

“I’m your prisoner,” I told him, feeling strange about having to explain our roles in this charade to him.

“You are,” he agreed as he pulled a large, fur-lined coat from his saddlebag.

“So why are you so concerned with making me comfortable?”

Arthur shot me a look over his shoulder, his expression difficult to read in the starlight. “I ain’t a good man, Miss, but I’ve been taught my courtesies. At least a few of them.”

I stared at him as he spread out his winter coat on the ground. It seemed he was going to give me the tent too, while he stretched out in front of it under the open sky. It didn’t look like rain, but again I was taken aback by his generosity with me.

“No one is ever going to believe how solicitous of my comfort you’ve been,” I murmured, not sure if I meant for him to hear the comment or not. His head snapped around and his eyes bored into mine suddenly, his mouth a tight line. The tension in his jaw made the scar on his chin stand out through his stubble.

“I’m not going to touch you. Not that way. You have my word,” he said.

I froze, then found myself nodding before I’d realized I was going to do so. Perhaps I was a fool for believing him, but something inside me knew I didn’t need to fear him in that way. Arthur Morgan was a killer and an outlaw—he’d admitted those things himself—but I didn’t doubt him when he said he wasn’t a rapist.

The conversation lulled and, almost simultaneously, Arthur and I decided to get some sleep. I climbed into the bedroll as best I could fully clothed and with my hands tied, but once I settled I realized how tired I was. It was hard to get comfortable with my wrists bound, but I knew once I found a decent enough position I’d fall asleep right away. I closed my eyes and forced myself to relax, to breathe slow and deep as I waited to drift off. The bedroll smelled…comforting. Like warm horse and wilderness and tobacco, and a little like the soap my grandmother had taught me to make back in Big Valley.

_This must be what Arthur smells like,_ I thought drowsily, and then I slipped into dreams.

 

* * *

 

 

“I figured you could use this,” Arthur said the next morning as he handed over a tin cup full of coffee. I stuck my nose over the steaming beverage and breathed in its aroma. In that moment, we might have been any two people anywhere in the world, instead of a hostage and her captor. He shot me a look as I took a sip and let out a small groan of appreciation.

“You didn’t sleep well,” he said.

I rolled my eyes. “My hands were tied and I was sleeping in a tent with a kidnapper just a couple of feet away.”

He laughed a little at that, dipping his head so his hat hid most of his face, but when he looked back up at me his blue eyes were still dancing. “I suppose that would make it hard to get some shut eye,” he agreed, and I had to fight back a small smirk. What the hell was he doing to me? I should have hated his guts, but instead I was trying not to _banter_ with him. There had to be something seriously wrong with my psyche…but there was just something about him that was, for lack of a better word, intriguing. I felt myself getting drawn in like the gullible fool I was.

He held my gaze for a moment, and the laughter in his eyes faded into something more serious. He seemed to be searching for something in my expression and I couldn’t look away. Then he cleared his throat and nodded to a small bowl filled with oats.

“Eat up, we’ve got a long ride ahead of us,” he said as he freed my hands so I could eat. My heart sunk a little. My legs were still sore from the day before, far too sore for me to run away, and sore enough that another full day in the saddle was going to be miserable. I was used to spending a long time on horseback, but without the use of my hands, I’d overcompensated by gripping too hard with my legs and they were reminding me of it this morning. Still, I wasn’t exactly in a good position to argue, so I plucked up the bowl and spooned the makeshift porridge into my mouth. I blinked in surprise when I realized it was sweet, and my eyes shot back up to Arthur. His cheeks flushed slightly and he busied himself with packing up the camping equipment.

“I found a hive this morning,” he mumbled. “Figured adding a little honey to your breakfast was the least I could do, after what we’ve put you through.”

My mouth dropped open, but I seemed to have forgotten every word I’d ever learned so I just kept staring at him. He had surprised me at every single turn, and I had no idea what to do with the contradictions he represented. As if he sensed my internal confusion, he moved away to give me a few minutes while he finished packing his horse, and I finished my breakfast in silence.

He was like the hero of one of my silly, romantic stories: the handsome outlaw with a heart of gold, just waiting for the right woman to help him realize he was a good person at his core. Only he was a real man, and he had taken me hostage and was eventually going to dump me in the middle of nowhere to fend for myself.

But there was no more time to work it out. As soon as I’d cleaned the bowl, Arthur had tied me again and lifted me back onto his horse, and then we were off. I was painfully aware now of him, of the size and heat of his body, of the way his arms brushed past my waist as he steered us through the worst of the rugged terrain. My urge to run increased…but so did my curiosity.

“You don’t seem like an outlaw,” I said after a few miles.

“You know many outlaws?” he asked, and I made a wry face.

“No,” I was forced to admit, “but I supposed I imagined them being a lot less decent than you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m not decent,” he said in an oddly flat tone. “I’ve done lots of terrible things. And you’d better not forget that for a moment.”

“Terrible things like fetching honey for my breakfast?”

“Like killing folk. Lots of folk, some of whom I did not have to kill.”

I shivered a little. It was hard to imagine him doing such things, but I didn’t doubt the sincerity of his words. “Well,” I said, somewhat feebly, “you’ve been nothing but decent to me.”

“And I’m sure I’ll come to regret it,” he replied with a sigh, “but we never should’uv dragged you outta that bank in the first place.”

We rode for a few more miles before Arthur stopped in a small patch of woodland. I could hear a stream nearby, and the rustling sound of animals moving through branches or brush. He hitched the horse to a tree with a few quick, efficient movements, then he lifted me down to my feet.

“Sorry about this,” he said as he guided me to a tree. He hadn’t been joking about tying me up to one while he hunted.

“This isn’t necessary,” I said, though not with much conviction. He lifted his eyebrows.

“Really, now? So you won’t run the minute I’m out of sight?”

I sighed. Of course I would run. I’m sure he would have too, if our situations had been reversed. I almost pointed out that running would be useless—I had no doubt he’d catch me within an hour or two—but I kept my mouth shut.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, and a few moments later I was securely bound. Satisfied with his handiwork, Arthur retrieved the bow and arrows from his horse and disappeared in the direction of the stream.

_Be mad,_ I urged myself. _Hate him. Use that hatred to find a way out of this mess._

But I couldn’t, not even when he’d left me tied to a tree. So I waited for him instead, questioning my sanity the whole time.

The sun moved across the sky. The horse cropped the long grass at the base of the tree. A rabbit dashed through the undergrowth while birds sang overhead. Then, finally, Arthur returned with two pheasants and four rabbits.

“It wouldn’t have taken me so long,” he said as he walked over to free me from the tree, “but there were men fishing near the stream so I had to go further than I’d planned.”

Would they have helped me? Or would they have been worse than Arthur? It was hard to say. An unarmed woman in the wilderness would probably seem like easy prey. The absurd thing was, Arthur made me feel safe.

I stuck my hands out, knowing he’d have to tie them again, and he made a sound as he saw my chafed skin. The rope had left abrasions on me, and he reached out to touch me where I was marked. I jumped as his finger brushed my wrist; it was large and rough but the contact was feather-light. A deep frown crossed his face as he examined me, and when he looked up I saw the conflict in his eyes.

“I’m your prisoner,” I reminded him softly. _Why the hell am I trying to make him feel better?_

He scratched the back of his neck, still looking uncertain. Then he heaved a sigh. “I ain’t gonna tie you up. Not if you behave. But if you run away from me, I won’t have a choice, ya hear?”

I nodded and he turned away, busying himself with building a fire. I began plucking one of the pheasants, grateful he’d already disposed of the bird’s innards. Then he washed the bird in the stream and spitted it over the campfire. When I fell asleep that night, with a full belly and free hands, I was much more comfortable—and much more confused—than I had been the night before.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m a dangerous man,” Arthur said in a soft growl, as though he was trying warn me away from doing something very unwise. The grit in his voice only made my blood run hotter.
> 
> “You’re not, not to me,” I murmured in response, rising to take a step toward him. His eyes were burning and his pupils had blown wide.
> 
> “Especially to you,” he replied, and a thrill ran through me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU for supporting this story!!! <33333

We were moving up into the mountains a couple days later. The trees were no longer covered in moss and most of the humidity had waned, leaving me tilting my face up into the light summer breeze. I knew we’d been heading more or less northwest, but I had no idea where our ultimate destination might be. Still, we were getting closer to home, whether he knew it or not, and when I finally made it back to my cabin, I was never going to visit Rhodes again.

Arthur continued to bemuse me, and he coaxed some genuine laughs from me as well. He had a sharp sense of humor and an endearing sort of accidental charm that I was helpless to resist. By dawn on the fifth day of our journey, I had to admit that kidnapping or not, I enjoyed Arthur’s company. And I found him distractingly handsome as well.

“I can’t figure you out,” he said to me as we broke down camp that morning.

“What do you mean?” I asked, distracted with folding the tent into a neat square so it would fit easily into the saddlebag.

“You seem…I dunno,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck with a wry half-smile, “it’s like you ain’t bothered by the fact that you’re lost in the wilderness with an outlaw.”

“It bothered me a lot at first,” I admitted. Then I shrugged. “But that’s not how I see it anymore.”

He laughed disbelievingly. “And how exactly _do_ you see it?”

“Well, it’s like…I’m lost in the wilderness with Arthur, and he’s taking me home.”

He stared at me, his lips parted a little in surprise at my words. “We’re a long way from Rhodes now,” he managed.

That was true; every day took us further from the marshes and I could tell we were starting to climb. “I know,” I said, “but I don’t live in Rhodes, I was just visiting my sister.”

“Ah.” He nodded, tilting his head down so I couldn’t read his expression. He liked to hide behind his hat when he wasn’t sure how to proceed with a conversation, I’d noticed. “So where is home?”

I hesitated as I packed the tent into the saddlebag, my fingers slipping over the leather flap. “Big Valley,” I said softly.

He was very still and quiet for a long moment, and when I peeked at him, I could see that he was deep in thought. Abruptly, he seemed to reach a hard-won conclusion. He met my gaze full on, and I sucked in a breath at the sight of those blue eyes. They could hit you like a punch if you weren’t braced for them, and to be the focus of his attention…well, I was only human.

“I’ll take you home,” he told me. “That’ll be more than enough time for the gang to melt away.”

“But what if I were to go straight into town and tell the sheriff about you?” I asked, so caught up in the little bubble we were in that I hadn’t fully noticed him closing in on me until my back was flush up against the horse’s side.

“Then I guess I’ll hang,” he replied in a low, gravelly voice. He was still studying me so closely that I was having trouble remembering to breathe out the air that was trapped in my lungs. The thought of him at the end of a rope…it bothered me. He must have seen something of my thoughts on my face, because his expression softened a little. He licked his lips and then gestured to the horse. “We should get moving.”

I didn’t have enough air in my lungs to speak, so I nodded and turned to pull myself into the saddle. I ignored the electricity that shot through me when he grabbed my waist to boost me up, but there was no ignoring the fact that I was _very_ aware of his body behind mine as he nudged the horse into motion.

I was just starting to relax again when we climbed out of the tree line, and the view from the mountainside took my breath away all over again. A few moments later, Arthur began humming to himself. All at once, a sense of deep well-being washed over me and without fully intending to, I leaned back into Arthur’s warmth. He stumbled over a note in his surprise, but quickly resumed the song. And perhaps I was imagining it, but he seemed to tuck his arms around me a little closer.

It was peaceful. For the first time in a long time, I felt completely safe. I allowed that feeling to carry me away into a daydream, one where I was in the arms of a man that loved me, and this beautiful view was all ours. We were on our way home, to a little spot tucked up near a mountain stream, and he was humming to me the same song he’d sing to our children, children that had spectacular blue-green eyes…

_Silly girl,_ I thought, but the daydream stayed with me for the rest of the day, and when he helped me out of the saddle that evening, I let myself believe his hands lingered on my waist for a moment longer than they needed to.

We cooked another rabbit that night, seasoned with some oregano Arthur had spotted in the foothills.

“Tomorrow we can fish. There’s a lake not far from here, more of a pond if I’m honest. I’m a poor fisherman, but we shouldn’t do too bad.” He was sitting on a rock with his long legs stretched in front of him, and he looked at peace with the world. The mountains suited him, or he suited the mountains. Either way, he seemed much more easy up here, and he stared up at the stars as if we hadn’t a care in the world.

“There’s a boy I know,” he said, almost to himself. “Jack. I taught him to fish. His pa was…well, he was setting up for a train job, so it fell to me. I caught just about the smallest bluegill you’ve ever seen, and he was bored enough that he wandered away to pick flowers but…we had a good time. He’s a good kid.”

I smiled a little and tilted my own head back. Above us, the stars shimmered in the clear air. They seemed so much closer up here. “It sounds like it.”

“I wish…” He sighed. “I keep telling his ma and pa to get out of the life. I don’t want him to grow up like we did. Decent kid like that…I figure he’s got a shot at being a decent man. But not if he stays with the gang.”

“You’re trying to save them,” I said, and he flinched a little.

“I just…I see things falling apart around us and…they still got a chance, but I don’t know for how long.”

We considered the heavens for a moment, both lost in thought. I wondered what it was like for him, watching his whole world crumble apart faster and faster.

“If you weren’t an outlaw,” I asked, “what would you be?”

“Oh, there’s no getting out for me. I’ll probably go with a dozen holes shot in me, and it’s no less than I deserve.” It was spoken with the quiet melancholy of long acceptance. I frowned up at the sky.

“Well, say you'd never been an outlaw. Say you were, I dunno, just some boy. The son of the town doctor or…or a trapper…or…I don’t know. What then?”

He chuckled a little, seemingly amused by the idea of living a quiet life. “Oh, I suppose I’d still want to live a little rough. Always thought I’d like having a ranch. That was the whole point of this, you know. We were supposed to get a bit of money and disappear west. Buy some land. Live free.”

I thought of him on cattle drives or tending sheep and smiled. It was a good fit. “It’s a fine goal,” I said.

“I’m beginning to think it’s all just a dream,” he replied with a heavy sigh. “Dutch has…lost his way, I think. He keeps coming up with new plans, and they’re not making a lick of sense. Now he’s talking of Tahiti or some nonsense like that. How are we supposed to get twenty-three people—twenty-four, If Trelawny tags along—to a tropical island when every lawman or bounty hunter in the land would like to get their hands on us?”

He was starting to let his frustration show. His voice was low and rough, and when I glanced over I could see how tense he’d grown. “All of us…we been relying on him, and he keeps telling us not to doubt him, but I can’t help wondering—people will die, people have _already_ died, but we just can’t seem to find our way back to sanity.”

“What happens if Dutch finds out you’re trying to get your friends to leave?”

“That’s the question, ain’t it? I used to think I was…I used to think I was like a son to him. Now I’m not so sure.” He shrugged. “Maybe he’ll shoot me.”

“In cold blood?” I asked, chilled at the casual way he spoke of his father figure murdering him.

“Sure,” he replied, drawing the word out with bitter thoughtfulness. “I suppose I won’t give him much of a choice, when the time comes.”

“But you won’t leave?”

He glanced at me with hard eyes. “That gang is the only family I ever had. No, I won’t leave.”

I fell silent, biting the inside of my cheek. He wasn’t the type to save his own skin, not if the lives of others were at stake. I knew that and I’d only known him for a week. But I wished somehow I could change things for him.

“We should sleep,” he said. The conversation part of the evening was clearly over. I didn’t argue with him, though my swirling thoughts kept me awake long after I’d crawled into the bedroll. From the stiffness of his shoulders, I knew Arthur wasn’t sleeping either. The inches between us felt like a canyon, one that I desperately wished I could reach across

* * *

 

The lake was beautiful. It was so clear I could have counted the fish swimming in it, and the waters were cold and delicious. Arthur cast out a line and settled himself against a rock while I washed our clothes and myself as best as I could manage. The horse, free of his saddle, pranced and rolled like a young colt, and I smiled as I watched him play. Deer wandered down to the shoreline on the far side of the water, and I noticed that Arthur secured the fishing pole against the rocks before pulling a leather-bound journal from his satchel. His pencil was soon flying over a page, and I realized he must be drawing the deer.

I wondered if his drawings were any good, but I doubted he’d show me if I asked. It seemed like something very personal, and he had already revealed so much to me…

I realized I was staring at the same time he did. He pushed his hat back and studied me for a moment while my cheeks flames red under his scrutiny, then he lifted his hand and gave me a little wave. The journal disappeared back into the satchel and he focused on the fishing once more.

Eventually I wandered over to sit with him. I didn’t know what to say after the previous night’s discussion, but he seemed relaxed. I watched as he reeled in a good-sized fish and hid my grin at the look of surprised satisfaction on his face. He cast the line out again as I wrapped his catch in newspaper.

“And you said you were a poor fisherman,” I commented with a laugh. “Why, I bet we could live up here, eating nothing but fish and rabbits and sleeping in every day.”

Then I snapped my mouth shut. What was I thinking, blurting out such a silly daydream like that, and to him of all people? I must have been as red as clay, but he only laughed a little.

“I _am_ a poor fisherman, but I wouldn’t mind living up here, even if it did mean eating nothing but fish. Suppose I could take down some deer too. And sleeping in?” He sighed happily just imagining such an indulgence. “I don’t think I’ve done that since I was a kid.”

“And I could tan hides and make us some perfectly terrible clothes,” I said, still blushing but happy he was playing along. He shot me an amused glance.

“We’d be as wild as wolves.” His grin was appropriately untamed, a little dangerous in a way that had me shivering and imagining _other_ activities we could spend our time doing.

“Maybe I like wolves,” I shot back, and his grin widened.

“Maybe I do, too.”

My body felt tingly and liquid all at the same time, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from roaming over his wide shoulders and strong arms, down to his narrow hips and long legs. Something changed in his expression as my gaze ran over him, and his grip tightened on the fishing poll until his knuckles were white.

“I’m a dangerous man,” he said in a soft growl, as though he was trying warn me away from doing something very unwise. The grit in his voice only made my blood run hotter.

“You’re not, not to me,” I murmured in response, rising to take a step toward him. His eyes were burning and his pupils had blown wide.

“ _Especially_ to you,” he replied, and a thrill ran through me.

“Arthur—”

“You’re testing me, woman, and I don’t think…” he swallowed. “I don’t have the kind of self control you seem to think I have.”

“Good,” I said with a shrug. I stopped in front of him and knocked his hat off of his head. Then I buried my fingers in his hair, tilted his head back and kissed him.

Immediately his body surged up off of the rock. His arms jerked me tight against his chest and then wrapped around me, keeping me anchored to him. I gasped a little against his lips and his tongue darted into my mouth, sliding against mine in a way that made me arch against him as I tried to deepen the kiss. He groaned at that, such a primal sound that I shivered in his arms. Then his hands moved to my hips and I rocked forward into his, a piercingly desperate need guiding my movements. Even the smell of him was making me crazy, and I ran my fingernails down his back as his mouth sought mine again.

“Christ woman, you’re killing me,” he growled in my ear, and my head fell back as his lips trailed down my neck. The sensation was delicious, almost overwhelming, and I wanted to push him back down onto that rock so I could straddle his hips and—

Suddenly his horse nudged him hard in the shoulder with his long nose. Arthur stumbled forward and I back, and his head jerked up and around at the interruption. Then the horse nudged him again.

“Oh goddamn it, you stupid—” Arthur let go and took one shaky step away from me before he pinched the bridge of his nose. Then he glanced up and met my gaze, looking sheepish. “I think he’s hungry.”

“Yes,” I agreed, mostly because I couldn’t manage much else. I was out of breath and still too overwhelmed by what had just happened between us to process much other information.

He moved away to feed the horse, then he stepped into the lake. He took the time to wash his face and arms, but privately I wondered if it was to help him cool down. The idea had crossed my mind as well, but I didn’t have any other clothes and mine had barely dried from my earlier washing. I wrapped my arms around myself instead, trying to hold on to the sweet ache he’d kindled inside of me.

He kept a wary distance between us for the rest of the day, but the looks he shot me were so heated that I never truly calmed down. I set the tent up early and ducked inside of it, desperate for a little privacy so I could get control of myself once more. He let me have the space, but I could hear him pacing around near the waterline like a caged animal. Was he as mixed up and frustrated as I was? How the hell was I going to endure these next few days?

Things had almost gotten out of hand, but the thought didn’t make me want to be more cautious. I had no idea what to do with myself: I’d never reacted to another human so strongly before. But in a few days, he’d be gone and I doubted our paths would cross again. I was torn between using my better judgement to protect myself, or following my gut in the hope of a few more passionate embraces.

I sighed and buried myself in the bedroll, breathing in his scent and remembering what it had felt like to sink into his kiss. After a while, Arthur stretched out on the ground in front of the tent. I could see that he wasn’t any closer to sleep than I was.

It was one of the longest nights of my life.


End file.
